Combat Ops

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got faith in that fat old bastard.”

“Zahed?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got something he wants — all that water from the new well. He’s been cut off. He won’t like it.”

“So what you’re saying is you are going to negotiate with him.”

“Not exactly…”

I grinned because I couldn’t believe I’d used those words, but I had.

TWENTY

About an hour before we were set to leave on the demo mission, Harruck came out to our billet, and the expression on his face didn’t look promising. The guys groaned, figuring the mission was off and that higher had more politically correct plans in mind.

But it turned out that my sister had notified the Army of my father’s passing. I wasn’t going to say anything, not even to the team.

“Scott, I’m very sorry to hear about your father.” He then explained how he’d heard.

“It’s all right. Thanks.”

“You should have told us. You need to go home. You need to pay your respects.”

“Would that make it easier for you?”

He tensed, glanced away a moment, then faced me. “Forget all this bullshit. I’m talking to you as a friend.”

“I thought our friendship was over.”

“I’m trying to keep this professional. Not personal.”

I couldn’t repress my sigh of disgust. “Good luck with that. Well, thanks for coming out, then.”

“So, you’re not taking a leave?”

I snorted. “I e-mailed my brother. I’ve already told him I can’t come.”

“You’re putting this in front of your father’s funeral? Are you sure? Are you sure you won’t regret this for the rest of your life?”

“Simon, I lost a guy here. I’ve got another guy who was captured. One of your men got killed while up there with me. I’ve got a young captain trying to help a village. I just can’t walk away now. I won’t regret it. My family understands. My dad would understand.”

He took a deep breath, gave a curt nod. “All right. Good luck, then.”

I’d missed more births, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and even funerals than I could remember. It didn’t get any easier. In fact, it got harder, and every time I spoke to my brothers or my sister on the phone, I had to reassure myself that the life I’d chosen was the right one because the distance between me and “the real world” grew larger every year.

And yes, I’d lied to Harruck. My brothers and sister would not understand. They would never tell me, but I could see it in their eyes, quite clearly. My sister once told me that I never did anything for myself. That wasn’t true. But as I stood there, watching Harruck go, I couldn’t help but resent some of the sacrifices, and I surrendered to the guilt of not attending my father’s funeral because yes, I’d put my job first. I’d given a lot to the Army, to the Ghosts, but missing Dad’s funeral… maybe that was too much.

We hitched a ride aboard one of the supply Chinooks, and we had that pilot drop us off about a kilometer east of the mountains. We set down in a well-protected valley not far from our FARP (Forward Arming and Resupply Point), used by gunships, Blackhawks, and Chinooks alike, so our bird was not a curious sight in that zone. We would hike in with less chance of being detected by Taliban fighters posted along cliffs that overlooked the village. Their gazes would be trained on the more obvious lines of approach, and we’d be coming up on their flank.

Ramirez and I wore the two Cross-Coms so we could easily detect friend from foe, but the others were blind because of the last HERF gun blast, so our Alpha and Bravo teams would need to stick together. Treehorn, our one-man Charlie “team” and sniper, would be posted outside the main exit tunnel we’d chosen, ready to pick off anyone who pursued us. We chose not to wear body armor to move more swiftly through the tunnels. Again, my plan was to avoid all enemy contact.

Yes, that was the plan. Would it survive the first enemy contact? Of course not.

A remarkably cool breeze tugged at our turbans and shemaghs, and if you spotted us hiking along the ridges, you would swear we were drug smugglers or Taliban.

Ramirez was more quiet than usual, but I think he appreciated my business-as-usual attitude, even if it was a disguise. The mission took priority. We both knew that.

But I would still keep a sharp eye on him. He led Jenkins, Hume, and Brown, and I’d told Brown in private that because Joey wasn’t feeling good I wanted him to look after the sergeant. He said he would.

I kept Smith and Nolan close, and as we approached the first cave entrance after about sixty minutes of rugged and slow climbing, I sent off Bravo team to the second entrance, about a quarter kilometer west of ours and located about two hundred meters higher up the mountain. The caves and adjoining tunnels were roughly shaped like two letter Ys attached at their bases, with pairs of entrances on either side of the mountain. When my team got into the first tunnel and reached the cave area where Warris had been cut off, our lights revealed a fresh passage dug through the debris.

“Ghost Lead, this is Treehorn. I’m in position, over.”

“Roger that. What do you got out there?”

“Nothing. Not even any guards. Weird.”

“All right, hang on.”

I gestured for Smith and Nolan to start planting the first set of charges, while I crept off farther down the tunnel, toward the starlight at the end of the jagged seam in the rock. I paused at the edge and stole a look into the valley below. Sangsar lay in the distance, a few lights flickering, the majority of the homes blanketed in deep shadows.

Warris was down there, somewhere, perhaps in some dank basement, being questioned, having battery cables attached to his genitalia, having insects shoved in his ears. Was he man enough to keep his mouth shut? Was he willing to die for his country? Had I taught him enough?

I grinned over a strange thought. Maybe his hatred for me would help keep him alive. He’d tell himself, I need to survive this so I can burn the bastard responsible. I accepted that. And even wondered, were I to rescue him, if he would change his mind, keep quiet, tell me that was his thank-you for pulling him out of hell. But no, the world was hardly that simple, and Warris’s moral high ground was pretty damned high. Rescue or not, he’d want to hang me.

“Ghost Lead, this is Blue Six, in position, over.”

“Roger that, Blue Six, stand by,” I told the Bradley commander. Harruck had come through and our ride home was waiting.

I slipped just outside the cave and pulled up the satellite imagery in my HUD. The monocle covering one of my eyes flashed as the data came through.

Glowing yellow lines that represented the series of caves and tunnels moved through a wireframe image of the mountain chain. The diamonds indicating Bravo team flickered on and off, and the signal grew weaker the deeper they moved. That I even got some signal was surprising. So far, no red diamonds within the mountain or outside.

Had Zahed just called back all of his guards? Were they all just tired? Why had they left the tunnels completely unprotected?

My hackles began to rise, and that smell I detected was not the dampness of the tunnel but an ambush.

“Ghost Team, this is Ghost Lead. I don’t like this. No defenses here. Plant your charges and let’s get the hell